


Alibi

by ladymac111



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Art, Case Fic, Fluff, Illustrated, Kinda, M/M, Silly, a hint of Greg/Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/ladymac111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Johnlockchallenges Grab Bag Challenge.  "Do you believe my alibi?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alibi

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt from artistfingers was “Do you believe my alibi?” but I had a really difficult time coming up with a situation where someone said it verbatim that didn't sound hokey, so I've changed it veeeeery slightly. I had a lot of fun coming up with a scenario.
> 
> Un-beta'd and un-Britpicked, so all errors are my own.

“You've got to believe me!”

Lestrade shook his head as he got up. “I'm sorry, kid, but without anyone to validate your alibi, I'm going to have to take you into custody.”

The young waiter's face fell. “But I'm telling you, there was a couple here! We closed at one and I was trying to hint at them to leave, but they … well, they were … busy.”

“But you don't know who they were,” Lestrade sighed. “So we have no way of finding them and checking your story.”

“No, like I said, they paid cash. Eventually.” A blush started to creep up his neck. “But they were here, and so was I, until nearly two. Which means I couldn't possibly have been in Croydon then. I didn't get home until a quarter to three.”

“I don't suppose you could describe them?” Donovan said archly. “On the off chance it could help.” She gave Lestrade a look that said she seriously doubted it, and Lestrade returned one that was mostly just annoyed.

“Well, they were sort of an odd pair,” the young man said. “Two men. I actually didn't think they were a couple at all, until the place started emptying out, and then they got cosy with each other.”

“Can we stick to the _relevant_ facts, please?” Lestrade said, slouching in his chair.

“Oh, sure, sorry.” He fidgeted with his apron. “Well, like I said, pair of blokes. One was tall and skinny, dark curly hair, pale, dressed real posh. He had a big coat, too, real dramatic when they were leaving.”

Lestrade's eyes widened, and he shared a startled glance with Donovan. “Go on.”

The suspect smiled nervously. “The other one was shorter, with kind of blond hair. Normal-looking guy, middle-aged. Wearing a jumper.”

Donovan smirked, and Lestrade stifled a groan. “Oh, Jesus, it couldn't be.”

“Couldn't be who?”

“I think we know these guys,” Lestrade said, pulling out his phone and flipping through his photos. He selected one and showed it to the waiter. “Was this the tall one?”

His face lit up. “Yes, that was him, definitely him! Funny-looking guy, isn't he?”

Donovan couldn't contain her giggle. “Now, when you say they were getting _cosy_ with each other ...”

“Snogging, yeah,” he said with a nod. “They were in the corner booth there, pretty dark. Private.”

“For an _hour_?” Donovan prodded with a wicked grin. Lestrade resolutely ignored her as he punched at his phone.

“Well, not the whole time, obviously. They were … well, like a normal couple, you know? Lots of talking. Flirting, when I look back. I interrupted them kissing a couple of times to try to hint that I'd like them to leave so I could close. They just sat there nursing their pints.”

Fifteen minutes later, the bell on the door jingled as two men came in. “Hello Greg, Sally,” John said, and Sherlock followed silently into the small restaurant.

“It's you!” the waiter cried excitedly. “You believe my alibi, don't you?”

John had a very puzzled look on his face as he and Sherlock wove through the tables. “Alibi? What alibi?”

“Kenneth here's a murder suspect,” Lestrade explained. “But at the time the attack happened, he says he was the last employee here, apparently waiting for you two to finish your beer and go home.”

John furrowed his brow and studied the young man's face. “We were here, but I had a bit to drink, I'm afraid. I couldn't say for sure it was you ...”

“I could,” Sherlock cut in. “Were you really so desperate to go home that you had to interrupt us _three times_?”

Kenneth flushed. “The way you were trying to suck his face off, it seemed like you'd have preferred some place a bit less public.”

John was beet red as Sherlock icily responded. “Obviously not. If I wanted to take John home, I'd have taken him home. Which I did, eventually.”

Donovan was trembling with suppressed laughter, and Lestrade was quickly approaching the limit of how much of this he could take. “Sherlock, that is _enough_. I really have no interest in your love life.” He shot Donovan a warning glare before she could speak. “It's enough that you can confirm Kenneth was here. What time did you two leave?”

Sherlock sighed dramatically. “About ten minutes to two. After the third interruption.”

“I did try to be polite. And we were supposed to close at one. Who stays out until two on a Monday anyway?”

“Yes, well, obviously it was a _good_ thing we were all here so late,” Sherlock sniffed. “I imagine you'd have a rather more difficult time getting your tank of guppies to testify that you were alone in your flat at the time of the murder.”

“How the hell do you know about my fish?”

Lestrade decided to ignore the escalation of the verbal sparring between detective and waiter, and turned his attention to John, who was gripping the back of a chair. “You okay, mate?”

John nodded, a bit too quickly. “Yeah, fine. Fine.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, no, I'm all right.” He rubbed his forehead. “Just not exactly the way I'd envisioned coming out, you know?”

Greg smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Things with Sherlock are never the way you envision them, are they?”

John met his eyes. “You're all right with it?”

“Why shouldn't I be? Half the force thinks you've been shagging since _A Study in Pink_ and the other half thinks it started after _The Aluminium Crutch_.”

A smile tugged at the corner of John's mouth. “And you?”

“Well, obviously it wasn't before that Christmas fiasco with your girlfriend.”

“I'm surprised you noticed her at all,” John said, “the way you were staring at Molly.”

Greg ignored the jibe. “It's my Sherlock-wrangling instincts, finely honed by eight years of keeping people from trying to kill him. You have no idea how glad I am that you've mostly taken over for me. You're better at it than I ever was.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“John!” Sherlock cut in. “I've had enough of this imbecile, let's go home. Detective Inspector, I'll leave him to you, but rest assured that the only thing he was killing last night was the mood. Text me if you need someone with half a brain to look at this case; I've got better things to do.” He turned dramatically, coat flaring, and stalked out the door.

John followed with a shrug. “Better look after him. See you later.”

 

Please do not repost image.  It may be reblogged (and seen in higher resolution) [at my Tumblr](http://ladymac111.tumblr.com/post/41180475965/illustration-for-alibi).


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